


it's time tonight (for flight or fight)

by ForASecondThereWedWon



Series: Spidey-shots, Spidey-shots, now they're done, thanks a lot <3 [40]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Bars and Pubs, Confident Michelle Jones, F/M, First Meetings, Lust at First Sight, Peter "Heart-Eyes" Parker strikes again, Pre-Relationship, Prompt Fic, Speed Dating, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:14:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26430223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForASecondThereWedWon/pseuds/ForASecondThereWedWon
Summary: Out of sympathy for his newly-single best friend, Peter allows himself to be dragged to a speed-dating night. He's not having much fun... until he is.
Relationships: Michelle Jones/Peter Parker, background: Betty Brant/Ned Leeds
Series: Spidey-shots, Spidey-shots, now they're done, thanks a lot <3 [40]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1368034
Comments: 22
Kudos: 55
Collections: The Spideychelle Shuffle





	it's time tonight (for flight or fight)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Machiavelien](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Machiavelien/gifts).



> Based on the following lyrics from "Van Horn" by Saint Motel:
> 
> _Walk right over/You're a ten, I'm a four-leaf clover/Well tell me do you hate me/Or do you want to date me?_

Doing this with Ned is _not_ fair because, despite his morose expression, Peter knows it won’t take more than a week for his best friend to get back together with Betty, his high-school sweetheart. The stakes are low for Ned. Of course, tonight isn’t make or break for Peter either, but he’s experiencing that mortal fear he only feels in this specific situation. Meeting women.

He takes another swig of his beer and looks around the bar that’s been booked for this event. The bottle rattles on the table of their out-of-the-way booth as he sets it down; his hand’s shaking. He swivels his head back around to Ned.

“Are you sure this is legit?”

“Yeah, man. You think this is some kind of elaborate scam? I know scammers occasionally target the romantically desperate―”

“ _Hey_.”

“―but that would just be sad,” Ned concludes.

Already, his usual cheer is returning and it makes Peter sullen. He peels the name tag off his shirt and tries to stick it back on straighter. He made the ‘P’ too big and the rest of his name crowds into the side. It can’t be helped. He’s too nervous to go back to the welcome desk and ask for a new one. The woman sitting there assessed Peter so closely when they walked in that he wondered if she was checking his clothes for uneven stitching.

“I know, it’s just… I didn’t think this was still a thing. Speed-dating.”

“A _great_ thing,” his best friend corrects. “Flash comes to this one twice a month.”

“Oh, and that’s a testimonial I trust,” Peter says with a snort. “If it worked, he wouldn’t need to keep coming back.”

“Well, maybe he hasn’t found the right person yet. There’s only so much the universe can do. Sometimes, you have to pick up the slack and go speed-dating.”

Peter turns away before he can switch from plain old cranky to cynical. Ned doesn’t need his grouchiness, even if his split from Betty is only temporary.

“I just don’t think…” Peter begins, eyes roving the increasingly crowded space.

Wow. Hold on. He stands up so fast that he knocks the table and a lightning-quick hand has to steady his bottle before he can slosh beer all over his best bud. Ned’s asking what happened, assuming this is a Tingle thing and not a _tingle_ thing―an equally animal response to Peter’s gaze landing on somebody way too good-looking to be in this bar with the rest of the ‘romantically desperate.’ He’s been associating ‘desperate’ with ‘a little bit crazy,’ but the only crazy thing about this woman is the fact that, when Peter stares, she stares right back.

“Oh yeah, her?” Ned asks from behind him. “She’s been looking at you like her eyes can burn a hole through your skull.”

“And you weren’t gonna, oh, I don’t know, _point that out_?”

“We’re hanging out,” his best friend pouts.

“Ned. If you wanted to hang out, we could’ve watched basketball on my couch. You brought me here to meet women.” He swallows. “I want to meet that woman.”

“Ok, champ, but, so, are we interpreting the look on her face as encouragement or the hole-through-the-skull theory I just floated?”

“I guess I gotta find out,” Peter responds.

He staggers from the table and only his reflexes preserve him from bumping into anybody as he ping-pongs through the assemblage, trying to keep his eyes on the coquettish curl of the woman’s hair, the flick of the short shirt at the top of a regulation football field-length of bare leg. Just when he thinks he’s lost her, he turns and looks up a couple inches into her enigmatic stare. He risks this woman (who can only be a model) thinking that he’s checking her out by darting his gaze to her chest where her name tag reads a clean, cursive ‘Michelle.’

“I was trying to decide if you looked too scared to come talk to me,” she says.

Peter laughs in surprise.

“I think the fear’s gonna catch up to me in a minute.”

“Damn, if we only have a minute…” Michelle says wryly, a smirk ticking the corner of her mouth upward. “I’m Michelle and you’re…” She squints at his name. “…Pete.”

Who even cares? He can correct her when they’re married.


End file.
